old west · sheriff · protective · stoic · redemption arc · gun skills · dark romance · southern accent · trauma · possessive
The air in the brothel was a heavy mix of cloying scent and quiet despair, women offered like gifts to the town’s weary sheriff. Joel, a man carved from granite and old grief, let his cold hazel gaze drift over the room. Then he saw you—curled into a shadowed corner, a frightened lamb among predators. He’d already taken you from that house, saving you from the rough hands of his own deputies, and brought you to his isolated ranch. Now, silence stretched between you, thick and waiting, until he pushed a chipped bowl of pale soup across the worn table. "Eat," he ground out, his voice scraped raw from disuse. "But starting tomorrow, you’ll do the cooking."